


Bodies and Dreaming

by wowbright



Series: Klaine Week 2013 [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: Advent Challenge 2013, Episode Related, Episode: s05e03 The Quarterback, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowbright/pseuds/wowbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mourning is different with every person you lose.</p><p>(Kurt mourns Finn's death.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bodies and Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> My belated reaction fic to “The Quarterback” 5.03, inspired by today’s [Klaine Advent](http://klaineadvent.tumblr.com/) prompt, “dirt.” Thanks [nachochang](http://nachochang.tumblr.com/) for betaing and helping me turn it into a story. Discussion of death and mourning.
> 
> Originally on [tumblr.](http://wowbright.tumblr.com/post/69031629678/fic-bodies-and-dreaming-pg-13)

The night Kurt flies back to Lima, he asks if he can see Finn’s body before the funeral. He never saw his mother after she died, and sometimes he still has dreams of walking into the kitchen to find her heating milk on the stove.

“But I thought you were dead,” he’ll say.

“I haven’t been gone that long,” she’ll say, turning to him with a perplexed smile. “I was just taking a break.” And they’ll sit on the couch and he’ll lean against her soft body and they’ll talk about silly things and deep things until his heart feels lighter than it has in years.

He hates waking up from those dreams.

He doesn’t want to have dreams about Finn, to be seduced into the idea that life may pause at times, but never truly ends.

So he asks to see Finn’s body.

Skin on a body that’s no longer living is too cold to feel like skin. Hair still feels like hair, though, and with Carole’s permission Kurt snips off a few strands to keep and shuts them in a locket pinned to the inside of his jacket.

*

The clump disperses as it hits the lid of the coffin, flecks of dirt skittering out from the center like lost dreams.

It doesn’t remind Kurt of his mother’s funeral. He’s too numb for memories. There is nothing beyond this moment. The sun streaking through the tree branches that haven’t yet leafed out; the heavy, fecund scent of lilacs blowing toward him from the cemetery’s hedge; the crumbs of soil sucking the moisture from his spring-warm palm; the sobs and sniffles and soft, resigned sighs of the people around him.

His own breathing.

He’s been listening to his own breathing a lot since the night Finn died. The fact that his lungs still pump air in and out often feels like a betrayal: Finn is his brother. They watched each other’s backs. They kept each other from falling or being thrown. If one went down, they both went down.

But Finn is being lowered down now, and Kurt’s up here, and there’s nothing he can do to stop death once it’s already arrived.

Carole is only still standing because Burt has both arms around her. She alternates between staring at the coffin and crying into his chest, “My boy, my boy, my boy.”

Kurt reaches for Blaine’s hand. He’s not seeking comfort, exactly – he knows there’s no such thing as comfort for any of them just now. But he needs to touch him, make sure he’s still here, remind himself that death hasn’t won over everything yet and that life isn’t a betrayal.

Blaine’s skin is as warm as breath and blood. Kurt presses his palm against Blaine’s and interlaces their fingers. He doesn’t have to look to know that it’s Blaine’s hand – he would know the feel of it anywhere, the weight and texture of it, the way it folds itself against Kurt’s muscles.

There are things Kurt remembers about Finn’s body. He remembers the weight of Finn’s shoulder against his cheek when they hugged, how solid and permanent Finn’s chest felt against his own, the sharp staccato of Finn’s palm patting his shoulder blades. He remembers this even though he’s not sure when the last time they hugged was.

Kurt remembers how uncomfortable it was to hold hands with Finn when they danced at Burt and Carole’s wedding, how his palms were sweat-drenched and slippery and his fingers curled too tightly against Kurt’s skin; and how oddly their bodies worked together, always a fraction of a beat off. But mostly he remembers Finn’s smile and how it made all the awkwardness of the moment disappear.

*

Six months after Finn dies, Kurt dreams of finding him in the loft, fumbling through the kitchen drawers in search of a bottle opener.

“Finn, how did you get here?” Kurt says as he rounds the counter.

Finn looks up and scratches his head. “I’m not sure, actually.”

“This isn’t real, is it?”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

Kurt reaches out and puts his hand on Finn’s chest. Finn’s heartbeat throbs in his palm. “It feels real, though.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Kurt tries to hold back the tears but they come anyway. They always do despite his best efforts.

Finn gets that furrow-browed, open-mouthed expression he always gets when he’s confused. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Kurt pulls back, turns his face away. He’s ruining this moment. The last thing his dead brother needs is someone crying at him. “I can’t remember the last time I hugged you. I just – I wish I did. It would give me something to hold on to.”

“Come here, bro.” Finn holds his arms out wide.

When Kurt falls into them, it feels like coming home. “I’m sorry I told you not to marry Rachel.”

“I know.” Finn breathes into Kurt’s hair.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to be my best man. I would have, but I just wasn’t thinking that far ahead and then –”

“It’s okay.”

“You know I loved you, even when I made fun of you, right?”

Finn nods. “And you know I loved you even when I was afraid to say it?”

Kurt nods against Finn’s shoulder.

“Good,” Finn sighs. “Can we order pizza now?”

*

Kurt doesn’t wake with a start. It’s a long, slow surfacing. Just as he’s about to break through, he realizes that the body in his arms isn’t Finn’s.

“Kurt, are you okay?” Blaine’s voice is soft against his ear. “You were crying.”

Kurt blinks his eyes open. Finn’s face fades away, but Kurt knows he’ll see it again. It doesn’t seem like a thing to fear anymore.

“Yeah,” Kurt says. “I am.”


End file.
